What He Left Behind
by JodithGrace
Summary: Buffy goes to Spike's Crypt and he isn't there...based on spoiler speculation for upcoming episodes.


What He Left Behind

By Jody E.

These characters do not belong to me. I merely toy with them for my own amusement.

Spoiler alert! This ficlet is based on Spoilers for the next few episodes, so I wouldn't recommend it for the spoilerphobic. Don't say you haven't been warned. Danger, Will Robinson!

The envelope lay on the naked mattress. Buffy hadn't noticed it at first, so shocked was she at the sight of Spike's crypt, stripped of all that was personal or valuable and obviously deserted. She had come to tell him about the horrible events of the past two days…Tara's death and Willow's terrible revenge on Warren, surprised that he hadn't shown up to lend a hand, even after…But now she understood…He was gone. She was too late. She had meant to come by all last week, to let him know that it was okay, that she wasn't angry. They had found Warren's chip controlling device and destroyed it. But Willow had needed her, and Xander had needed her, and Dawn had needed her. So she had stayed and been the good friend and the good sister. And Spike had left.

Buffy sat down numbly on the bed, but did not pick up the envelope. She ran her hand over the faded ticking. Denuded of linens, it was obviously an old mattress, probably rescued from the dump, as had been most of his furnishings. Still, it had been comfortable enough, on the few occasions when they had actually gotten as far as the bed. Buffy looked around. She hadn't been down here to Spike's lower level since she had blown up the demon eggs with Riley's grenades. The bed was still intact, but most of the room that Spike had fixed up to be so "posh" was pretty much destroyed. No attempt had been made to repair the damage. Spike had obviously just moved back upstairs. Still, he had left the note for her here, on the bed. Perhaps he knew that nobody else was likely to come downstairs. 

Buffy picked up the envelope. It was cream colored, expensive looking stationary. Buffy wondered where he had gotten it. She studied the envelope, reluctant to open it. Her name was written on the outside in a beautiful flowing hand. It suddenly occurred to Buffy that this was the first time she had ever seen Spike's handwriting. The quaint Victorian script certainly didn't suit his rough and tumble image, she thought with a sad smile. But then, it was just an image. She had never made the effort to get to know what lay behind it…perhaps this handwriting was more appropriate than she knew.

Reluctantly, Buffy ripped open the creamy envelope. Inside were two pages filled with the same beautiful writing. He had obviously gone to a lot of trouble writing this, since there were no crossovers, or blots. He must have written a rough draft and then copied it over, without the benefits of instant editing and spell check that Buffy took for granted. 

Buffy could procrastinate no longer. With a sigh, she began to read. The letter was dated April 30, 2002. He's been gone for more than a week, Buffy thought, and I didn't even know it. Through blurry eyes, she continued on.

"Dearest Buffy,

By the time you read this, I will be well on my way to Africa. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you about this in person, but I was afraid you'd put a stop to it, or perhaps even stake me. Considering my behavior the last time we met, the latter would be neither unexpected nor unwarranted. However, both Dawn and Tara are aware of my plan…I swore them to secrecy until after you'd received this note. So, if you are curious, you can ask them for the details. For the purposes of this letter you need only know that I am on my way to a shaman that Tara found for me, who thinks he may be able to remove my chip."

Buffy looked up from the letter in horror. My God, she thought, Spike without his chip! Was it even possible? And Tara had arranged this? And Dawn knew too, and hadn't said one word. But _why?_ She turned back to the letter hoping for some answer.

"Buffy...there is something that I have to tell you. You'll undoubtedly hate me for it, but you probably do already, so I might as well come clean. Remember the night of the frozen security guard? Hard to forget, I know, since that was the night that our whole roller coaster ride began. Well, earlier that evening you and I had a fight. You hit me and I hit you back, but my chip didn't activate. I didn't let on but I thought that the bloody device had finally failed, and that I was free at last.

Buffy – I went out straight away and attacked a woman in an alley. You had called me an evil thing and I suppose I set out to prove you right. Lucky for her the chip was working. I might have scared her a bit, but I didn't hurt her. I'm not saying that excuses what I did. I do know right from wrong as you see it, and I know that was wrong. Dead wrong. Confused, I went to see my old mate Warren. He's a genius about that sort of thing, and I asked him to check out the chip and see if it was misfiring. He did a sort of scan and told me the chip was working perfectly as far as he could see."

Warren! Spike had gone to see _Warren?_ Warren who had led Jonathan and 

Andrew in torturing her for months, and who had probably murdered Katrina and now Tara! Not to mention Spike attacking a woman…this just got worse and worse. 

"Buffy- I swear I didn't know anything about Warren and his wankers being responsible for the frozen guard or for any of their other nasty tricks against you. And I certainly didn't know that by letting him map my chip, I was giving him power over it, or over me.

Now, in addition to having the bleeding US Government in my head, I've got Warren in there as well! Thank God, I was able to resist his commands at the last minute before the worst happened. But who knows how much more I can take, or if I can resist him at all the next time he tries. I love you so much, Buffy. You know that I would never hurt you. In all those months that we slept together, I never did anything against your will, or that you didn't want. Did I? I know you trusted me. But now, thanks to Warren, you can't. And I can't trust myself. 

After that incident last week, I had a long talk with Dawn, whilst you were at work. I told her I had to go away so that I wouldn't hurt you any more. I had to go somewhere Warren couldn't reach me. I hate the thought of leaving you and the Nibblet. I'll even miss Tara and Red. Not to mention Anya. I guess there's no point in even trying to explain that one. What can I say? Lonely, desperate people and all that. I certainly never meant to hurt you, Buffy, but I guess I bollixed that up as well. I suppose Harris won't be weeping for my absence, will he? 

Well, whilst I was talking to Dawn, Tara stopped by to see Red, but she was out at one of her meetings. Tara suggested some ideas for getting the chip removed. She said that she didn't have the power to remove it herself, but that she would do some searching on the Internet. She and Dawn agreed that you would never really trust me again until the chip was out and I could choose not to hurt people of my own accord. 

Tara came by my crypt a day or so later with the name of this Shaman in Kenya, who thinks he can do it. I was glad it was far away from here. I sold everything I have of value, and packed up my few things. I also had a few quid stashed away from some minor black market dealings, though I swear those bloody demon eggs were a favor for a mate of mine. If I'd had any idea they were Suvok demons, do you think I would have kept them in our bedroom? Not that it matters now, anyway. I wanted to give that money to you but I knew you'd never accept it. Now it can buy me steerage passage on a ship to Africa, so at least it's good for something. Dru and I traveled quite a lot that way in the old days. It's not bad.

So anyway, that is the deal. I don't know what's going to happen with this shaman bloke. If he can help me, good. How I will feel afterwards is anybody's guess. I would like to think that I can resist killing on my own, but that woman in the alley might not agree. I just don't know. But I want to try, Buffy. I want to try to be a person that you can respect, and perhaps someday love. But I swear to you, my darling, if I fail, I will never come back to Sunnydale. I will never turn Angelus on you and your friends. So, don't worry about that. I'll live out the rest of my unlife as far away from you as possible. And it won't be long, I imagine. I hear that African sun can be a real killer.

If you do see me again it will mean that I have succeeded. It may take a while, even months, but I have to prove this to myself. Hell, if Red can give up magic, and Anya can give up vengeance, even after what the whelp did to her, then I can give up killing. I've gotten used to pig's blood, even if I do have to add burba weed to it to make it palatable. In Africa, the Masai tribe lives on cow's blood, so I should be right at home. 

So, anyway, my love, that's my story, such as it is. I don't know if or when I will ever see your beautiful face again, but I will always carry it with me in my mind and heart. And when I am blue, all I have to do is remember those moments we had - and we did have a few, didn't we - before it all went wrong. And remember, Buffy, regardless of what you think of me, I will always love you. Give my love to the Nibblet. 

Yours Forever,

William"

Buffy collapsed onto the bed and sobbed. Damn him for leaving without a word! It was all so stupid and pointless. Warren was dead and couldn't hurt them any longer. And now with Tara's death and Willow's magic totally out of control, she needed Spike here, not off in Africa somewhere. She needed him and wanted him and he would never return. She knew it. Like all of the other men in her life.

After a long while, Buffy got up, and clutching the letter to her breast, climbed up the ladder to the upper level of the crypt. She looked around one last time, feeling the all too familiar ache of loss. His little refrigerator was gone as was his television of course, but candles still decorated every surface. Spike had loved candles...loved the romantic glow they shed, and even loved the hint of danger in their flames. Now they were without light or heat…just charred, half-melted sticks of wax. 

As Buffy turned to leave the crypt forever, her eye was caught by something long and black hanging on the hook near the door. She drew closer and saw that it was Spike's trademark leather duster. She lifted the heavy coat off the hook and put it on, smelling the leather and cigarettes mingled with God knows what that gave it its unique odor. It was large on her and heavy but it felt good…comforting somehow. The leather has held up remarkably well, mused Buffy, considering the punishment it and its owner have endured over the years. But why would Spike leave it behind? It was practically his second skin, and he was seldom without it. Surely, he could have used its protection on his journey.

Suddenly the answer came to her, and she smiled. It was obvious. He was coming back! He had left his most precious possession to let her know that he was coming back. She had almost forgotten the two essential facts that she knew about Spike…he never gave up, no matter how many times he was beaten down, even by her…and he loved her. So, therefore, he would succeed and would come back to her. And Buffy would just look after his coat for him until he did. She folded the letter carefully and slipped it into the pocket of Spike's duster, and walked out of the crypt into the sunshine. 

The End


End file.
